


A bottle of champagne

by thatsalotofbirds



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, im very sorry, the beach scene part 2, this is not a happy one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29730669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsalotofbirds/pseuds/thatsalotofbirds
Summary: For the first time in ten years Tommy’s hands were shaking, fucking shaking like the shell-shocked soldier he was. He had a gun pointed at the back of Alfie’s head. This time though there was no missing the shot.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	A bottle of champagne

Tommy Shelby had his orders. He’d been given an ultimatum, been told what he had to do. He’d known it was coming, he knew what they would ask of him and even then how was he to prepare? 

They were on the beach again, beneath the blinding sun. The waves were muted and quiet as if holding their breath. 

For the first time in ten years Tommy’s hands were shaking, fucking shaking like the shellshocked soldier he was. He had a gun pointed at the back of Alfie’s head this time, there was no missing this shot. 

He was trying to forget. Trying to wipe his mind of the early mornings and late nights they’d shared. Trying to forget the way Alfie kissed him, the way he whispered sweet nothings in a tongue Tommy couldn’t understand. 

“Fuck,” he swore to himself as he tried to muster the courage he needed to pull the trigger. 

“You’ll take care of the dog then Tommy?” Alfie didn’t even bother to turn around to ask the question. 

“Yeah, yeah I’ll take care of the dog,” This time Tommy would be kind, Alfie deserved that much at least. 

“Well then get it over with mate, I got a god waitin’ for me up there,” 

Tommy was making himself forget. Forget the ramblings and monologues, forget the rum, forget every good and pure memory he had of the man in front of him. He held the gun all the same, wishing he could convince himself to put it down, to lay it on the sand or chuck it into the sea. Today however, was not a day for theatrics. Today was for death and duty. 

Today one of them would be laid to rest and the other… well the other would continue on. Toward what Tommy didn’t know but perhaps continuing was all that mattered. 

Then Alfie turned and Tommy stood, gun still pointed, shaking and shaking and shaking. Alfie stepped towards him then, right to the barrel of the pistol. He lowered Tommy’s arm and pressed the cool metal barrel against the bottom of his chin. 

“Just like that treacle, just like that,” there was a lingering softness in his voice that sparked tears in Tommy’s eyes. 

“Pull it, now, just a gentle squeeze and I’m gone, won’t feel nothin’,” 

Tommy was crying now, shaking his head and letting tears well up in his eyes. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” his voice was breaking, shattering into a million little pieces beneath the stress of what he was trying to convey. There weren’t words for it. Couldn’t ever be words for it. 

“I know, Tom I know,” Alfie reached for the trigger himself, gently pressing his warm hand to Tommy’s freezing one. 

“I said I’d take you out for a drink, said I’d take you somewhere nice,” Tommy sniffed trying to reel himself back in, to gain some semblance of control. 

“Next time mate, next time,” 

Tommy nodded shakily, yeah next time. Next time they’d sit in some fancy old restaurant and Tommy would buy Alfie a proper drink and they’d have a laugh at all the toffs around them. They’d share a bottle of champagne Tommy decided. A bottle of champagne. 

Tommy didn’t register the bang, only Alfie falling, only someone screaming, that was him he realized faintly. Screaming at the top of his lungs as he hurled the gun into the ocean. He stumbled away. Away away away. Anywhere but this beach would do. He did get away in the end. Found himself two glasses and a bottle of champagne. Drank it until he needed something stronger. He wished he’d chosen gin.

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus. This was taxing to write but I'm pretty proud of it. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
